


What's Past Perfection?

by CyanoticFireflies, Nomanono



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: BDSM, Double Penetration, Established Relationship, M/M, Sex Toys, Threesome, sex auction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 20:40:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10704687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyanoticFireflies/pseuds/CyanoticFireflies, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nomanono/pseuds/Nomanono
Summary: A night at the club is always a good time for Yuri and Otabek.  But it’s not just the beat of the music that will get Yuri’s blood pumping when a few “fans” decide to take advantage of everything the DJ’s date has to offer.  Anything goes… for those who can follow the rules.





	What's Past Perfection?

**Author's Note:**

> This fic came about as a result of CyanoticFireflies' [awesome headcanon comment](http://archiveofourown.org/comments/103524288) about my (Nomanono) long-running smut fic, [A Different Kind of Coaching](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9124666). She detailed her imagined future for the Otabek and Yuri of that story and I was like "ABSOLUTELY YES LET'S DO IT". And four days later, here we are!
> 
> If you don't feel like reading ADKOC, all you need to know is:  
> \- Yuri is an incredibly determined, nearly nymphomaniac sub (while still being his own, strong-willed person)  
> \- Otabek is ace spectrum and doesn't really feel arousal 
> 
> If you do read ADKOC, think of this as a potential future, given I have no idea where that fic is headed at any given point in time ;)

If someone had told Otabek in the days before Yuri that he would be in a relationship with a dynamite creature coveted by men and that he - _he_ \- would be able to sexually satisfy a lust-filled tiger who fell to his knees to be his sub, Otabek would have barked out a laugh.  The idea was ridiculous.  But there he was, six years later, in a loving relationship with Yuri Plisetsky, the ice tiger of Russia who after a hard day of practice wanted nothing more than to have Otabek (or Otabek’s commands) make him come before curling up in his arms.

Their relationship was the best thing in Otabek’s life.  He loved Yuri more than he would have thought humanly possible.  He had put his collar on Yuri, made the boy his, and so many wonderful things had joined his life along with his darling Yurike.  He had the closest friends in the forms of Victor and Yuuri.  Even though he had left competitive figure skating, he was fully welcome among the competitors as a former ISF medalist and Yuri’s partner.

Some days he wondered if it wasn’t all a dream. Others it was too surreal to be anything but reality.

Otabek parked his bike at the rink and walked inside, the scent and walls still aching of home regardless of his year post-retirement. The path to the lockers was second nature, and inside he found Yuri and Yuuri before the mirrors. Yuuri was brushing Yuri’s hair, the pair exchanging warm smiles and love-squinted looks with their reflections. Though he retired years ago, Yuuri still frequented the rink, what with his husband coaching and his lover/friend/rival trying to expand his collection of golds.

When Otabek walked up alongside them, Yuuri ushered the blonde beauty to his master’s arms.

“Rinsed and ready for you,” Yuuri told Otabek, who nodded his approval. 

“You look gorgeous,” Otabek said by way of greeting, adjusting the golden ring of metal around Yuri’s neck. 

“Of course I do.”

Yuri’s neck twisted, eyes following Otabek as he did a lap around his boy, inspecting.  Otabek had not exaggerated. Yuri _did_ look absolutely beautiful.  His blond hair was braided into two tight, thick ropes at his temples, trailing back the side of his head above Yuri’s pierced ears so that his braids looked like a golden circlet.  The braids joined together into a thicker length at the back of his head, trailing down over the silky smooth waterfall of his hair to settle beneath Yuri’s shoulder blades.  He had taken so much care in growing his lovely blond hair out, and Otabek had happily assisted Yuri in brushing the strands to spun gold every night.

In sharp contrast to his fair hair, Yuri wore a bright red, satin shirt and risque little black skirt.  The fabric of the shirt hung loose in some places, showing off the lack of breasts to give the front shape, but then hugged Yuri’s sides to show off the slenderness of his figure.  There could be no doubt that Yuri was hiding an excellent male body under the gauzy, pretty shirt, and the back was open, revealing Yuri’s bare shoulder blades all the way down to the small of his back.  The skirt was just barely long enough to be decent, allowing for easy access to the sensitive spots between Yuri’s legs.  The way it fell over his ass made it pop, drawing all the attention to Yuri’s ballet-toned backside.  

Otabek let his eyes rove, catching all the details that were Yuri’s hallmark of perfection.  Beautiful hair and attire designed to drive men wild were acceptable on their own, but Yuri would never settle for acceptable.  The ice tiger had his golden earrings in place, dangling low and tipped with tiny diamonds - a gift from Victor, and golden strappy sandal heels adding height to his figure, elongating the long, lithe legs of a ballerina.  Otabek knew Yuri’s hips swayed in heels, dragging every eye to Yuri’s backside, which was exactly what they both wanted tonight.  A simple golden bangle bracelet completed the look, almost a perfect match to the elegant golden circle Otabek had taken great joy in locking around Yuri’s neck - his collar in disguise.

His boy looked phenomenal.  Otabek managed a tiny smirk.  How would any man be able to resist those charms?

“Your braids are improving,” Otabek said, this time to Yuuri, tracing the interlaced locks of hair that pulled back from Yuri’s face. 

“Practice,” Yuuri deflected, but he came up and touched them too. He shared a kiss with Yuri, quick but hardly chaste, and then stepped back with a coy grin, knowing all too well what was in store for Yuri tonight. “Enjoy yourself, Tiger.”

As Otabek spread his hand on the small of Yuri’s back he noticed the spring to Yuri’s step and couldn’t help the smirk. “How was your day?”

“Che.  The brats Victor takes in keep getting younger and younger,” Yuri complained.

“Mm,” Otabek acknowledged. His hand slipped down as they left the lockers. It glanced over Yuri’s skirt, finding the hard curve of silicon hiding between Yuri’s cheeks. “And _how was your day_.”

A few years ago, Yuri would have choked and blushed, hidden his head in Otabek’s shoulder. Now he prided himself far too much in his body, was far too comfortable on Otabek’s arm, prepared to be a plaything.

“I could feel it all day,” Yuri said, smiling coyly at Otabek.  “Every move I made, it let me know it was inside me, deep and wide and making me ready.” Otabek caught the clench of muscles that sentiment evoked. “Then I remembered you putting it inside me this morning.  I had to think innocent thoughts to avoid looking indecent in my practice gear.”

It had been a wonderful moment between them, after all.  Yuri, bent over the end of Otabek’s bed, the undercurve of his ass reddened from the backside of his own hairbrush.  “Open yourself up,” Otabek had said.  “Show me.”  And Yuri had, reaching back and parting his own cheeks, holding them spread as he relaxed his hips.  A soft nudge of the toy against his asshole had been his only warning before the thick toy had pushed forward, parting his tender tissues and holding him open wide.  “Otchka,” Yuri moaned, “Yes, more!”  And he had gotten more, the entire length pressed inside of him until his hole closed around the thin neck near the base, leaving the large plug buried.

It was just the thing to get Yuri in the mood for a night at the club where Otabek would DJ for pocket money.

Yuri loved going to the club dressed in his best and looking flawless.  Of course the club was more a place for spiked hair and leather - Otabek’s biker look fit in quite well in fact.  Yuri didn’t care that his high-class style didn’t match; he reveled in standing out.  His boldly-colored clothes, sparkling jewelry, perfectly-braided hair, and the air of elegance that Lilia had trained into his bones drew every eye in the place.

And on the street as well.  As they walked over to the club, Yuri saw and felt several sets of roving eyes.  Some were subtle, glancing at him and then shying away.  After all, with Otabek’s hand on Yuri’s back, he did look wonderfully owned.  Other men leered, taking in the beauty of Yuri’s face, the pale lengths of his legs.

“All the men are staring at you,” Otabek said.  “Look how much they want you.”

“They’re jealous of you for having me,” Yuri replied, putting a bit more sway in his step, even as it made the toy inside of his body rub him even harder, deeper.  “They want what you have.”

Otabek nodded.  Over the years, he’d seen a lot of men coveting Yuri.  It made him hold his own head up higher.  No one had anything as good as what he had.  “Too bad we’re on a mission tonight.  No time to play with men on the streets.”

“No,” Yuri agreed.  “Can you imagine how disappointed the regulars would be to miss a DJ Rider night?”

“I’m not the one they’d miss.”

They entered through the back, the bouncer shaking his head as Yuri came into view.

“You’re going to kill someone one day,” he said. His eyes followed Yuri long enough to whistle as he saw the way the skirt clung to his ass, fluttering so high on his thighs that any bend would surely reveal him.

“Not you, I hope?” Yuri purred over his shoulder, giving the bouncer such a coy smile that he actually shuddered.

Yuri lingered backstage while Otabek set up. When the manager showed up, she gave a snort to see Yuri in all his glory.

“We can borrow the back room after the show, can’t we?” Yuri smiled.

“As long as you keep bringing in your crowds,” she waved her hand. 

She knew exactly what they did in there, but it was so very good for business she could hardly deny them.

When he was finished prepping his set, Otabek came to collect Yuri. 

“Are you ready?”

“Always.”

Otabek’s arms found their place at Yuri’s waist and Yuri snuggled into that familiar, effortless embrace. 

“How long has it been?”

“Since we started? It doesn’t matter, does it? We both love it…”

There was a softness in Otabek’s eyes mirrored in the way his hands trailed over Yuri’s body, tracing the edge of the crimson cloth encircling Yuri’s bare back. “Watching you squirm beneath them? Watching how much you enjoy being used? Of course I love that.”

His hand, briefly, curved into a claw, scraping his nails against Yuri’s skin. “Now go make your money.”

Yuri stepped into the crowd as Otabek’s set began, his pace elegant and unhurried and demanding attention. How long had it taken him to get used to walking when he was so full? They’d started small: little things he kept inside of him during practice. Then during performances. Until it had become a near constant ritual. Otabek controlled everything that went into Yuri’s body, and always ensured his lover was satisfied.

By the time he’d walked across the room to the bar Yuri had spotted several interested suitors. He smiled around the straw of his coke to one of them, perched on a stool that pushed his plug in _just right_. No one said a word about his drink of choice; it had always been that, ever since Victor gave him that lecture on playing while intoxicated. Plus, the bartender always gave them to Yuri for free. 

From his throne, Yuri surveyed the landscape. 

Amongst his regulars there were a few new sweet things with their eyes on him. He batted an eye at one: clearly trying a bit too hard to fit into the more punk crowd. He must have wandered in on his own; if he had any friends who were club scene, they surely wouldn’t have let him go out looking like a bad bad-boy stereotype.  The kid did have some muscle on display to be admired, but it was aesthetic muscle.  Yuri would be surprised if he could throw a decent punch.  His hair was spiked up but too thick with gel and his bambi-eyes still showed way too much innocence even through the over-thick layer of liner around them.  Still.  He was handsome enough, a bit taller than either Yuri or Otabek.  And there was something about the wide-eyed curiosity and bashful interest in Yuri that endeared him to the boy. 

He couldn’t spend too much time on any one suitor, of course. He prowled the club once he finished his coke, making sure to walk near his favored regulars - or at least the ones with the biggest bulges in their pockets.  Some of them greeted him outright:  “Evening, Tiger.  So glad to see you here tonight.”  Others let their bodies do the greeting, pressing up behind Yuri as he danced so that their hips ground against his backside.  Both were tolerable.  Anyone could dance with Yuri so long as they knew who Yuri’s master was.  So long as they could follow the rules.

Dancing in the club was different than dancing on the ice,  but over the years Yuri had learned how to put on a show.  The music ran through him and Yuri followed along, moving his body to the beat and curving suggestively into his dance partners, occasionally throwing his head back so that his golden hair shone in the dim lights of the club.

Even without alcohol, time passed strangely at the club. DJing would only ever be a side hobby for Otabek, but after six years he’d still acquired a considerable skill at reading the crowd and seamlessly blending songs for them. Yuri became entranced - always aware of how he was being perceived, but caught up in the game of dance and seduction. 

The only thing that pulled him free was the familiar notes of the song. _His_ song. 

He looked up to find Otabek smirking to him from the stand, giving him a nod of acknowledgment as Yuri’s song filled the room with pumping bass. 

This was it. 

He held nothing back. He let the skirt rise up. He moved like a living manifestation of the rhythm, the lyrics, the beat. He was all of it, and this was his final chance to display himself, to show the men what their fat pockets could be put towards.

Normally they would crowd around him, encircling his gorgeous, gyrating form. But today Yuri couldn’t help looking between their shoulders, locking eyes with that lovely young thing. He’d probably never seen anything like this before, the poor darling. 

The song ended and Otabek uttered a few brief phrases of thanks, signalling the end of the show. The regulars lingered, but Yuri stepped with the quick elegance of a doe between them and closed the distance to the boy.

“Come on,” Yuri purred to him, the first words they’d shared. He took his hand. “I’m going to show you something really fun.”

His eyes twinkled at the open-mouthed shock on the boy’s face. The boy followed Yuri, of course, dragged to the side of the stage where the bouncer waited.

His circle of regulars wasn’t pleased with this new development, but Yuri cast a single, apologetic glance to them that annihilated any ill will: “Don’t worry,” Yuri soothed. “I’m not making my choice. I just want to see what he’s got to offer.”

Yuri walked up to the bouncer and put a hand on his chest, curling into him.  “Is the back room open for us?”

“Again, Tiger?” the bouncer asked.  “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

“I like what I like,” Yuri said.  He winked.  “So can we go through?”

“I suppose so.  As long as you two make sure no one does anything crazy.  You, Rider, and I won’t be so cool if I have to come in busting heads.”

“Oh, hush. Rider pays you well enough to look the other way, hmm?” Yuri said.  He knew the bouncer didn’t really mind - after all, he had gotten a very particular type of payment.  “Unless you think it’s time for another installment?” Yuri curved his tongue across his lower lip, watching the hard swallow this evoked in the bouncer. “I could ask Rider for you…”

The bouncer shook his head, like dispelling a particularly strong dream. 

“Go on,” he said, and ushered Yuri through, boy in tow. 

“Go wait in there for a minute,” Yuri said, gesturing down the darkened hall to a side room. The boy obeyed in a daze and Yuri turned back to the small gaggle of men, picking those who’d earned their chance with him tonight. 

He’d dressed well, performed well, seduced well. There were a dozen, but only five had really caught Yuri’s eye and attention. These were waved through, and the rejects knew better than to put up a fuss - lest they negate their future chances. 

Yuri trailed the chosen few into the back room, the door clicking closed behind him.  He eyed the bulges evident in the front of their pants and cast flirtatious grins.  He wanted them.  So much.  He had come a long way over the years, come a long way from the Yuri who was nervous about taking the cocks of strangers.  Now?  Now he craved it, the dirty little secret sex with men who felt like they could do anything with him because they didn’t have to face him in the morning.

But no one dared start.  Yuri didn’t run this show, after all.  This was Otabek’s, and Yuri would never upstage him.

When Otabek finally entered the room, everyone’s eyes turned to him.  Even Yuri couldn’t look away.  This wasn’t “Otchka,” who took him on lovely dates to fancy restaurants to show him off then brought him home to tease him until he cried with toys.  This wasn’t even “Otabek,” who loved to put Yuri in his kitten attire and cuddle him on weekends while they watched movies and ate snacks Yuri’s coach would never allow.

This was Rider, the unquestioned master of Tiger, who showed off his property with a monolithic presence, fully in control of both himself and those around him, quick to torture and command.  This was a man who expected to be obeyed, and Yuri was thrilled to do so.

“I see an unfamiliar face,” Otabek said finally, looking around the room.  No one made eye contact.  Rule number one: you don’t disrespect Rider.  Even the new kid seemed to sense that there was something about this guy you didn’t fuck with.

Yuri tried not to laugh, thinking about how indignant Otabek had gotten when Yuri had tapped a whipped-cream finger on his nose during dessert last week.

Yuri settled into the new boy’s lap and whispered “Pay attention” in his ear.

“Here’s the rules,” Otabek said.  “I’m going to open the bidding tonight at 12,000 rubles for my boy’s mouth, 25k for his ass.  Anything beyond a suck or a fuck?”  He smirked.  “I’m sure my boy will say ‘please, yes.’”  The guys started laughing and Yuri grinned agreeably.  “You want to make a bid, you put your hand up.  I don’t want you all screaming over each other.”  His eyes were sharp as he looked at the men.  They were mostly regulars who knew the rules, but he liked reminding them of who was in charge.  It kept them from trying to push things, to take advantage of him and Yuri.  “Whoever wins the bid gets to enjoy my boy so long as they do what I say.  The rest of you are welcome to watch and enjoy.  Jack off, I don’t care, but don’t just come on my boy without asking my permission.  At the core, it’s simple.  My word is law.  Play games with me?  I promise, you’ll regret it.”

Two of the guys leaned in together and started whispering, pulling their wallets out of their pockets.  Yuri’s eyes lit up with excitement at whatever they had planned, wiggling as his imagination played out.

But his “chair” was completely stiff underneath him.  Yuri gave the boy a peck on the cheek.  “Relax,” he whispered.  “Breathe.”

“Tiger,” Otabek snapped. “Get up here.”

Yuri got up gracefully, all legs, and sauntered up to Otabek, leaning up and giving him a kiss.  Otabek kissed Yuri back for just a moment before raising his hand and giving Yuri a pop on the cheek.  Yuri gasped.  It was just enough to sting in the best way, a reminder of his place.  

“Behave,” Otabek warned him.

“Yes, Sir.”

Otabek grabbed Yuri’s face in his hand, turning him around to face the crowd.  “You all know what you’re paying for.  My boy has no problems deepthroating a cock.  Let him suck you and work his magic or grab his hair and use his mouth like just another hole.  He can take it.”  Otabek stroked his fingers over Yuri’s lips, showing off the softness of them, then pushed two fingers deep into Yuri’s mouth.  Yuri sucked on the digits, accepting them.  “He knows better than to gag either way.”  Yuri closed his eyes in contentment as Otabek bragged on him.  The words were absolute sexual filth, but Yuri loved the way Otabek praised him, acknowledging all the talents Yuri had put so much time and effort into developing just for him.

“He’s got a good body that I’m sure you’ll all find pleasure in,” Otabek said, stroking his hands down Yuri’s sides and over the flat plane of Yuri’s stomach.  Then Otabek sat down on one of the boxes and pulled Yuri into his lap. Yuri’s arms wrapped around his neck, his knees on either side of Otabek’s firm thighs.  “And an ass I’m sure you’ll all enjoy.”  He grabbed the bottom hem of Yuri’s skirt and lifted it out of the way, baring Yuri’s naked behind.  Yuri never wore underwear on club nights.  Otabek grabbed the cheeks of Yuri’s ass, parting them and letting everyone see the base of the toy in Yuri’s hole.  One of the guys groaned as he realized Yuri had had it in all night.

“His friend washed him out before we came over, so you’ll have a nice clean ride,” Otabek said, hooking his finger under the curved base and starting to pull. 

Every eye in that room was locked onto Yuri’s ass, staring at the muscle as it was drawn outward by the plastic cock inside it. Yuri groaned as his asshole reached its limit and had to start widening, stretching open to make way for the thick black thing. 

“Ahhn!” he let out a needy moan as the thickest bulb near the base escaped him. Every man in the room was grabbing their bulges at that point, and the new boy looked like he was one squeeze shy of coming. 

The toy slid free at long last, set aside, but no one was watching where Otabek whisked it off to. Their eyes hovered on the red bullseye of Yuri’s ass, his muscle fluttering helplessly open, revealing a shining glimpse of his innards. He still glistened with lube, and Otabek drizzled a little more into the open hole of Yuri’s ass before Yuri gasped and cinched his muscles together, sealing that entrance until one of these men would barrel through it.

“All right.  Let’s begin.”  A few guys started rapidly calling out numbers.  15,000 rubles.  16k.  16.5k.  Yuri stayed in Otabek’s lap, enjoying the show and letting the men’s desire wash over him.  He didn’t even notice that the voices were all familiar ones.  

“Do you have any idea what’s going on here, kid?” Otabek interrupted to ask Yuri’s newbie, the boy he had never seen before.

“Uh - y-yeah,” the kid started. “I got it.” 

“Have any money on you?” Otabek asked.

“Yeah but -- not like _that_ kind of money,” his neck stretched towards Yuri to emphasize.

“How much do you have?”

The boy pulled out a wallet that was all plastic cards and a few folded bills. His fingers shook as he leafed through the rubles. “Uh - I - 3,000?” 

Otabek’s lip hitched into an amused smirk as he shook his head.

“I guess we can give a quick discount; get all our regulars excited,” Otabek said. He reached past Yuri, paying his boy no mind as Yuri slipped from his lap, and grabbed the kid without warning. His fingers and thumb tightened with the kid’s chin in between them.  When he spoke, his voice was perfectly calm. “I’m going to ask you a question. And you aren’t going to lie to me.”

“Y-yes!”

“Are you clean?”  Otabek raised an eyebrow.  “And don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean.”

“I am,” the kid assured. “Promise I am!”

Otabek considered it and decided he believed him.  For fuck’s sake, the kid looked ready to piss himself.  Otabek doubted he could lie with a straight face.  Without even looking at Yuri he commanded: “Boy. Suck his dick.”

That was all it took.

Yuri all but dove towards the boy’s zipper. He took to his knees like he was made to be on them and with a glance up at the boy yanked the money from his wallet. 

“Oh - oh fuck,” the boy gasped as Yuri’s expert fingers unbound his belt and then pulled his cock from a somewhat embarrassingly beer-patterned pair of boxers. 

“Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck,” he squirmed, mouth sucking in air as Yuri’s tongue was suddenly on him. No, not just on him - all around him. 

“F-f-f!”

Yuri smirked around the cock in his mouth.  He’d glossed his lips while he was prepping with Yuuri and now that shining mess smeared off onto the base of the boy’s cock, slicking together the hair there. 

Something to remember Yuri by.

Otabek noted most of the regulars had discarded modesty now, flies dragged down, dicks out. 

Good. They always bid higher when they were turned on.

“Grab his hair if you want,” Otabek encouraged the boy, whose hands were rigid claws at his sides, like he was afraid he’d fall off the ride. 

Yuri looked up at the boy through charcoal-darkened lashes and tilted his head, encouraging.

“He’s yours to use. Use him,” Otabek followed up. “You paid for him, after all.”

With a breathless swallow the boy’s hands came up to Yuri’s hair, finding their seating amidst the blond braids. But it was so tentative - almost like he was trying to hold a baby bird.

Sweet thing. 

“Like this,” Otabek corrected, yanking on Yuri’s hair. Pulling him off the boy for a moment. It forced Yuri’s neck at an awkward angle but he kept himself perfectly poised, just gasping at the touch but keeping his wet mouth open for further use. Otabek guided him back onto the boy’s cock, farther, farther, then held Yuri in place when Yuri was fully deep-throating him.

“Fuck him,” Otabek said.

“Oh god,” the boy managed, and before he could even tighten his hand and follow Otabek’s direction his eyes rolled back and he shuddered, giving Yuri a belly full of seed.

Otabek had to give him credit: he’d lasted almost a minute. 

Most didn’t.

Not their first time.

Otabek loosened his hand and Yuri pulled slowly off the boy, plush pink tongue visible in his mouth for all to see as he kept his mouth slightly open, promising.

“Not bad,” Otabek said. “A good appetizer.” And then his normally stony expression warmed. The kid had followed the rules. Had enjoyed himself. Had passed. He’d be welcome back, if he ever wanted. 

But he wouldn’t get a discount like that again. Not unless Yuri truly favored him.

“Now that playtime is over, let’s get back to it.  I believe I heard 25,000?  Doesn’t anyone want more than the new kid got?  Boy, your ass may go wanting tonight.”

Yuri pouted but the men all quickly started bidding higher, not wanting Otabek to cut the show off early.  20,000 rubles.  30k.  45.  47.  50.  Then one of the two men who had been whispering together called out, “70,000 if we can both be in his ass at the same time.”

Everyone shut up, waiting to see what Otabek would say.  Yuri, for one, hoped it was ‘yes’.  Yuri had worked hard over the years getting his body in shape to take anything any man wanted to do to it.  He had taken toys that even older subs at the BDSM clubs had balked at.  He could do it!

Otabek seemed to consider it, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek.  “Yes,” he said, finally.  “Boy.  Get ready.”  Then he turned to the men and said, “And you two.  You know your cocks don’t go in his ass bare.”

They scrambled for the condoms in their wallets, ripping the packages open as Yuri crawled over to Otabek and gave the front of Otabek’s pants a few soft, lingering kisses.  Of course it wouldn’t turn Otabek on.  But he wanted to show his subservience and gratitude for this chance.

For a split second he saw his Otchka over him, felt his Otchka’s tender caresses in his hair, returning that delicate affection. 

And then it was gone, and Otabek was using the grip on Yuri’s hair to pull him over to the waiting men. They were both familiar, had both had Yuri’s ass before. One they referred to as Guns for his considerable upper body build - an older, silver-speckled gentleman with a kink for Yuri’s legs. The other they called Mute. He never made a noise: no grunting, no gasping. As far as they could tell the only word he’d ever said was ‘Yes’ when Otabek had asked him the same question about cleanliness. Mute was younger, and the sort of mixed-ethnicity that could be anything from Nordic to Mongolian to African. 

Otabek drizzled the lube out onto both dicks and then once more between Yuri’s cheeks, using his own finger to guide the slippery fluid in and around his boy’s well-trained body. 

“You sit back. He’ll ride you, then you can join,” Otabek directed, finger indicating people and placements, memories filled with _that one night_ when Victor and Yuuri had tried this with their tiger.

Guns kicked off his pants and got comfortable, taking a seat on one of the speakers they’d hastily thrown a blanket over. He pat his thighs, beckoning Yuri up, and Yuri tightened up his muscles so it would feel good for the man as he sank down easily onto his greased, latex-covered cock. 

When Guns was deeply buried and had gotten in a few thrusts to enjoy Yuri’s body, he laid back, pulling Yuri down with him into a position where his ass was available for Mute. The room was filling up with the sound of slicking skin, all the more so when Mute lowered his body to line up and set his cockhead right at Yuri’s ass. 

How had Yuri forgotten about this? Two people inside of him? He shivered at the idea and tried to relax and let it happen. Otabek was standing beside him, a hand in his hair, holding him down and bent over so he would take whatever he was given. It wasn’t playful. Yuri knew what kind of punishment he’d get for disobeying him or the men Otabek deigned to let fuck him.

“He can take it. You don’t have to go slow,” Otabek said. He watched the proceedings with an analytical eye, intimately familiar with his boy’s limits and knowing they were nowhere near them. 

Mute increased the pressure, and Yuri’s body started to give. It took so much force just to break in that as soon as Yuri’s muscle opened several inches rapidly followed. 

Yuri screamed, but it was a head-tossed-back moaning-whore sort of scream. Mute’s nostrils flared, but he didn’t say a word as he looked at Otabek and then bucked forward, hilting.

Guns let out a deep groan that Yuri could feel rattle in his chest. 

“Leave it in,” Otabek said when Mute started up. Mute managed to freeze, though the tension was clear in his body. He’d been reduced to that feral eagerness of sex, that desire to simply bury into a warm hole and pound on it until he found his release.

But they all knew the price of crossing Otabek.

“Alright, go again,” Otabek said, when the tiny muscles at the small of Yuri’s back lost their stony tension. It was one of Yuri’s tells, a place he would cramp up when he was in pain and didn’t want anyone to know. Not enough to want to stop. But close.

Mute started up again, while Guns only gave the occasional thrust to keep himself seated. The stretch was godly for Yuri: this incredible girth and then to have the offset thrusts - one cock moving, then the other, like endless pistons inside of him.

The first voyeur came up alongside them, cradling his cock. 

“Can I come on him?” he asked Otabek. They’d nicknamed this one ‘Quickie’ for a reason. He’d lasted all of ten seconds the first time Yuri went down on him. 

Otabek hooked his hands under Yuri’s top and pulled it off of him, revealing the full expanse of his flesh. He collected Yuri’s hair in his hand, drawing it out of the way, and pointed. “Do it there, over his ribs.” 

Quickie came forward, giving his cock a few last shakes and jerks before it gushed whitish cum down onto Yuri’s skin. It came out in three parts, each one creating a unique drip on the middle of Yuri’s back. Then Quickie stepped back, dazed, recovering. They didn’t open the door during the fun, as a rule, so he sat back to catch his breath and watch the rest of the show.

Yuri made the sort of sounds he usually made when he was in pain, but his head was tilted back and his mouth was open and Otabek could tell it was the good sort of hurt, the sort that Yuri thrived on. The sort that Yuri used to know that he was growing, pushing himself, becoming ever more perfect. 

Those twin cocks kept spearing into him, abusing his body, ruining his asshole, and he took it like a champion. Otabek kept an eye on the color and texture and specularity of Yuri’s ass, dripping lubricant onto the two cocks when he saw the glisten fade.

“He needs more,” Otabek said. “If you’re getting close, go all out.”

They were getting close. Between the tightness of Yuri’s body and the feel of another cock gliding against their own, Mute and Guns were both tight-balled. Guns still had very little leverage, but Mute grabbed onto Yuri’s hips, silently imploring Guns to freeze so that Mute could give Yuri a proper fucking. 

Mostly this consisted of slamming his cock into Yuri’s ass as fast, deep, and hard as he could. 

He wasn’t satisfied until Yuri started crying out with every thrust.

The other two watchers came up almost simultaneously and as Mute was going still and pumping his final, orgasmic thrusts into Yuri.

“Fuck, I’m going to come,” one of them said, jerking his cock harder, faster.  He stared at Yuri intently, using Yuri’s body to bring himself to the edge.

“On the small of his back,” Otabek said.  He wanted to see come - even if not his own - on the place where his fingers so often rested.

The man groaned and obeyed Otabek’s command, releasing his seed onto Yuri’s pale skin.

Yuri looked to Otabek, full of his own need.  “Please let me come,” Yuri begged his master. “Please, _please_.”

“Not yet,” Otabek said. 

Mute stayed buried as deep as he could get himself into Yuri, finally giving Guns an opportunity to set the rhythm. Their final watcher stared with burning intensity at the way Yuri’s body sucked on that penetrating skin.

“Come here, on his neck, under his collar,” Otabek instructed the watcher, sensing how close he was. He brushed a few stray strands of Yuri’s hair out of the way. Yuri held still, braced to accept the fucking, and offered his neck to be drenched in cum, marking him as surely as the locked collar. 

“Me too?” the original kid asked, coming up beside them nursing his once again swollen cock. 

“Open your mouth, boy,” Otabek said, tugging on Yuri’s hair. Yuri was dangerously close to being blissed out from the fucking, but he managed to hold his mouth open as the kid covered his tongue in a second load of seed. 

“Keep it in your mouth,” Otabek said. “Don’t swallow.”

Yuri held the cum on top of his tongue as his body rocked back and forward from Guns’ thrusts. He wasn’t particularly fond of the taste, and Otabek knew it, and also knew that staying there holding the salty, tangy fluid on his tongue would force Yuri to taste it thoroughly.

Just another gentle reminder that Otabek owned him.

Yuri’s eyes rolled back, unable to beg for his release with his mouth full, but every time he blinked back to awareness he gazed at his master with every desperate, pleading bone of his body.

“Almost, Tiger. Once he’s finished with you,” Otabek said. 

Yuri groaned. Mute had softened up enough that he fell out of Yuri, meaning Guns could finally change things up.

“I want to fuck him over the speaker,” Guns said to Otabek. He received a nod of permission. 

Yuri immediately rose off of the man, giving him room to stand up, and then bent over the blanketed audio equipment. He spread his legs, heels forcing his ass up into the air in the most beautiful way, skirt lifted haphazardly to his waist. 

“Can I make him tighten up?” Guns asked as he sank inside.

“Tell him to,” Otabek said. 

“Squeeze your ass around me, boy. I want to feel you tight when I come.”

Yuri obeyed as if it was Otabek’s own command. It was, in a way. Otabek chose who got to have power over Yuri, and the punishment for disobedience was the same.

The finale was short, too short for Yuri, but he was still mindless by the end of it, the heady scent and taste of cum filling his skull, his ass fucked raw and stretched out as Guns finally pulled out of him. 

Otabek took the bills from Guns and Mute. Rolling them up into a thick cylinder, he pushed it half into Yuri’s body while their audience smirked and offered amused, if breathless, chuckles.

Yuri looked up, pleading, and Otabek finally let go of his boy’s hair, reaching under Yuri’s body and grabbing his cock. 

“Alright, Tiger, you can come,” Otabek said. He gave Yuri three strokes. That was all he ever gave, and it was all it ever took. On the last one Yuri shuddered, gasping around his cum-soaked tongue, and came into the towel in Otabek’s waiting palm.  

It would have been the perfect capstone to the night, if one of the voyeurs hadn’t decided to do something incredibly, ridiculously stupid.  Expressly against Otabek’s rules, he slipped his phone out of his pocket and tried his best to get a picture of the utterly lewd sight in front of them.  He thought he was being sneaky, but then Otabek’s eyes turned to him, dark and vicious. 

“Give it to me,” Otabek said.

“What?”

“Now.  Or I will come and take it from you.”

The guy reluctantly handed over his phone, hoping he wasn’t about to get the hell beat out of him by Tiger’s protective master.  “You can go ahead and delete it.  Rider, man, I’m sorry, I --.”

Otabek dropped the guys phone on the floor and slammed the heel of his boot down on top of it, breaking the phone into pieces.  “Sorry, delete it, you said?”  He leaned in close to the guy and said, “You’re out.  Hope you enjoyed the view. You’ll never see it again.”

Yuri almost sulked.  The guy could fuck and fuck hard after all.  But he had also disrespected him, trying to take a picture while Yuri was at his most vulnerable.  And he had disrespected Otabek by not asking first.

“Out,” Otabek said.  “All of you.”

Dicks were shoved back into pants as everyone rushed out of the back room, leaving Yuri and Otabek alone.

“You can swallow,” Otabek finally allowed, and Yuri spent a moment trying to get enough moisture to clean and scrape away the disgusting mess. When his mouth was clear again he growled.

“Stupid fuck,” Yuri said simply.  “Everyone knows not to break our rules.”

Otabek shrugged.  “Won’t matter. He’s not coming back.”  He reached over, grabbed their payment from Yuri’s ass, flattening the bills out.  “Here. You did good tonight.”

Yuri grinned, wiping a stray bit of cum off the outer bill.  It was never about the money for them.  It was about the control, the thrill.  Otabek selling Yuri’s body to the highest bidder and Yuri having little choice but to surrender, accepting Otabek’s commands and the commands of those Otabek put above him.  Still, extra money didn’t hurt one bit.

“I think we should get that new game system that came out,”  Yuri said.  “You always like those awful racing games.  We can get one of those, and something bloody and violent for me to play.”

“You only hate racing games because I beat you,” Otabek responded.  “Sure, that sounds good.  We can get it first thing in the morning?  Spend a lazy weekend on the couch playing video games and eating food your coach wouldn’t approve of?”

“Yes!” Yuri agreed.  He grabbed a bar towel from a storage box and started cleaning himself up, twisting elegantly with his trained flexibility to get the cum on his back.  Otabek helped him into his shirt, then Yuri presented his body to Otabek for his plug to be reinserted.  Otabek picked up the thick toy and put it against Yuri’s open hole.  When he pressed, it slid right into his gaping entrance, earning nothing more than a small gasp.

“You can wear your kitten things,” Otabek said as he patted the base of the toy, making sure it was settled deep.

Yuri glowed.  He loved kitten time.  Even though Victor and Yuuri would fuck him with his ears and gloves and tail, for him and Otabek it meant G-rated cuddles, lots of kissing, sweet words of affection.  The perfect way to come down after a club night.

As they left the building, Otabek’s fingers went to the small of Yuri’s back, fanning out into their ever-familiar, guiding heat.  “So.  Did you get what you needed, Yurike?”

Yuri smiled at Otabek.  His keeper, his master, his world. Six years ago, Yuri couldn’t have imagined that he’d be partnered to this mysterious, stoic wonder of a man. That he would give his heart and soul and body so freely and so completely to another, with the utmost trust that they would be loved and cherished. 

Yet here he was.

“I had it the whole time, Otchka.”


End file.
